


Alchemy

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Crossover, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: Alchemy: a seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination. Lacey finds an antagonistic note left in her classroom and confronts the person who wrote it.





	Alchemy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this Tumblr post](https://rumple-belle.tumblr.com/post/170387760712/ripperblackstaff-inheritress-so-my-chemistry) and prompting from the wonderful Ripperblackstaff. It was originally going to be Belle but Belle just kept acting like Lacey so here we are. This Lacey is a little different, maybe, but there's no reason in my mind that a barfly from Storybrooke who hustles pool can't grow up to be a chemistry professor. 
> 
> (This is just pointless office porn, Lindsay, it's not that deep.)

The note is written in red ink and taped to the middle of the whiteboard, right over Avogadro’s constant and the calculation for the atomic mass of a Benzene ring.

 _My students are better than yours,_ it says in a fine line red pen above a printout of midterm exam scores, students’ identifiers removed.

Lacey scowls at it for a moment before tearing it down and erasing the writing beneath it, happy to be done with first semester organic chemistry for the day and more than ready to dive into some upper level thermodynamics. It’s always been a favorite of hers, which her mother joked was because she was so hot-tempered. 

Turning away from the board, she tucks the paper in the outside pouch of her messenger bag and sighs. Next week will be three years since her mom died, and the first year she won’t be able to visit the cemetery. It’s a sobering thought, but she pushes passed it with a deep breath and a smile as her CHEM 383 students start filling the seats.

Midway through the lecture, she corrects a student’s answer more harshly than normal, and she realizes she’s still stewing about the stupid note. She has an idea about who left it, but before she confronts the offender, she has to have proof.

Later, as everyone starts meandering out of the lecture hall, it comes to her. Her second year chemistry lab needs a good project, something with real world applications. Chromatography would be perfect. She slings her bag over her shoulder and steps into the hall, smiling to herself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lacey leans over the desk to drop the red pen into the cup on Rush’s desk, knowing full well that he's standing in the doorway. She can feel his gaze caress the line of her spine, over her arse, down her thighs and back again. Most of his students find his stare to be intense and intimidating, but she knows the passion that lurks beneath the surface, and exactly how to release it. Plucking the pen from its holder, she straightens and gasps when her back collides with his chest. The bastard could be quick and silent when he wanted to. A lethal combination.

Rush's hands find her waist and he pulls her against him. “What do you think you’re doing, _Professor_ French?”

She glances over her shoulder, smirking. “Just returning the pen I borrowed, _Dr._ Rush.”

It’s been a game between them for a while, emphasizing each others’ titles sardonically. Originally, it was a way for him to not so subtly point out that she didn’t have a PhD and he did. Now that she is less than a year from having that silly piece of paper, it’s more playful motivation. The truth is he couldn’t be more proud, or more ready for her to be done with the tedium of writing a dissertation, and defending it to a panel who wants nothing more than to poke every hole imaginable in her hard work. She has only one more rewrite and one more oral exam to go. Once she graduates, they can take a much needed break and celebrate.

“Borrowed?” he asks, slipping his hands down her thighs. “You mean _stole._ ”

“I collected _evidence,” she counters, reaching back to thread her fingers in his hair. “Red gel ink, eosin based, with bromine and a fluorescent compound.”_

__

The air in the office is getting warmer by the moment, and she can feel sweat beading on her neck. She hopes he locked the door this time.

“Could be anyone's.” He grins and starts lifting her skirt. 

It's long and flowing, made of a light floral print fabric. He finds it more of a turn-on than any of those tight, short dresses and skirts she wears sometimes. It gives her a look of innocence, the sweet purity of youth he imbued her with those first few years of their acquaintance, when she was his student and her lips around his cock was nothing more than a dirty fantasy.

“Could be,” she says, popping the top two buttons on her blouse. “But it has - _oh_ -” He slips his free hand inside to palm her breast through the thin satin of her bra, and she gasps, arching into his touch. “It has a stabilizing polymer - _ah_ \- specific to Sanford pens.”

He squeezes her gently and she gasps again before she can get the words out. “And - and a - a point 07 millimeter tip.” 

Rush laughs and gives her nipple a soft pinch through the fabric, which solicits another lewd little noise. He finds the edge of her skirt and gathers it in one hand, raising it over her hips to find pale blue knickers, trimmed in ivory lace. He knows, just _knows,_ if he touches her there he'll find them soaked and clinging to her body. 

“And what does that prove, Professor French?”

She whimpers and takes his hand, moving it down between her thighs. “My afternoon lab section tested them all, and yours is the only red gel ink pen in this building that matches.” 

Grinning, he cups her mound, feeling the sticky wetness gathered there. Her hips shift as she tries to rub herself against his palm, her body already desperate for touch. “A very thorough analysis,” he says, dragging his hand over her, giving her just a taste of friction as he pulls away. “I’m sure your students had an excellent learning experience.”

Lacey smiles, preening a little at his compliment. Such things are few and far between with Rush, she knows. “Are you ready to confess your transgressions?”

He makes a low noise as he pushes her hair aside with his nose. “Ready to commit some transgressions, maybe.”

She laughs and presses back against his lean body, feeling the hard ridge of his cock nestled against her arse. “My, my, statistical methods must have been very _arousing_ today, Dr. Rush.”

His mouth finds her neck, licking away the fine sheen of sweat and nipping his way down from her ear to her shoulder. “Aye.”

His tone is low and gravelly and, _god,_ it makes her so wet, though she already was before he walked in. She’d spent the last two hours in her office on the floor above his, sweltering in the spring heat, surrounded by piles of lab write ups and test sheets. After she read the same paragraph three times, she gave up and let her mind wander, as it often did, back to Nicholas Rush.

“You’re wrong you know,” she says, more breathless than she'd like. “Your students aren't better than mine.”

Rush smirks. “We’ll debate that later.” 

She rolls her hips backwards, rubbing against him, and he groans, feeling his dick throb against the front of his jeans. He places his other hand on her back and pushes her forward sharply, making her brace herself on the desk with her thighs pressed against the edge.

“I love you like this,” he whispers, leaning over her and pressing the hard ridge of his cock against her ass. “So naughty.”

She loves him like this too, loves it when he takes charge and takes what he wants, when he tells her all the deliciously sinful thoughts in that brilliant mind of his. Maybe he’s been thinking about her all day just like she's been thinking about him, working in the lab and remembering when she used to sit in the front row in her short leather skirts and low-cut shirts. She’d wait patiently, eyeing him boldly until he finally looked her way, sputtering over his words when their eyes met.

She always stayed after class to ask questions, which meant some of her more annoying classmates took to calling her teacher's pet, or worse. She hated it at the time, but their spite had become fuel that pushed her toward excellence. She let them think what they wanted; she was the one who clawed herself up from nothing, became a professor, and would soon have her doctorate. And though her dalliance with physics was short-lived once she found a true passion for chemistry, those first three semesters had been very _enlightening._

Lacey bites her lip and presses backwards, wiggling against Rush. “Stop teasing.”

Rush can feel himself losing control as he hooks a finger in her knickers and pulls them down, leaving them around her knees. He slips one finger, then two, between her folds, pressing inside her and pulling out a moan with each stroke. She’s so hot and tight, and it amazes him that he can do this to her, that brilliant, beautiful Lacey French actually wants him. 

After Gloria he never thought he’d find anyone else who could understand him or care for him that way, and then along came Lacey. She’d pulled him out of a hole he didn’t even know he’d been in, and in each other they’d found something they could be as passionate about as science.  
Alchemy she’d called it once, not just chemistry, but something else, something almost magical. Something that changed both of them into something new.

He stops moving his hand, fingers still inside her, and smirks at the needy little noise she makes in protest.

“Nick,” she gasps, shifting her body and sliding back and forth over his fingers, fucking herself on his hand. “ _Please._ ”

She’s begging, and he can’t get his jeans undone fast enough. The zipper rasps sharply before he takes himself in hand and slips inside her, burying himself in one thrust. She cries out, and he swears one of these times someone is going to hear them, get the wrong idea, and barge in just in time to get an eyeful of her gorgeous arse. A part of him almost wants it to happen, wants the whole campus to know that he can make her scream with his cock.

He starts moving, bracing his hands on either side of her and pounding into her hard and fast, just like she needs it. It’s always like this when they’re in his office or hers, half-clothed and desperate. Later, in his bed, they’ll draw it out, slow and passionate, and she thinks she loves these quick, hard fucks all the more because of it. It takes no time to get her close to orgasm, and her hand creeps down her stomach, seeking her clit, but he catches her wrist and places her hand back on the desk. 

He pushes her forward until she’s sprawled across the desk. Every thrust has her nippples brushing the surface, teasing her arousal higher and higher. She makes a delightful squeaking noise and starts jerking her hips, pushing her hands against the desk as she meets him thrust for thrust. His fingers slip between their bodies, finding her clit easily, and a moment later she’s clenching around him, pulling him over the edge with her.

The only sound in the office is their panting breaths as the ecstasy passes and they come back to themselves. Rush straightens and pulls Lacey up with him, falling back into his desk chair in a sated heap. She twists around until she’s sitting across his lap and loops her arms around his neck, leaning in for a kiss. He kisses her back fiercely, finding some of his earlier passion still unsatisfied.

When she pulls away, there's a coy smile on her face. “You're pretty insatiable for an _old_ man.”

He smiles at her teasing tone; he learned long ago that their age difference is insignificant in her mind. “Luckily we have Monday off. Maybe you can wear me out by Tuesday.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You mean maybe you'll let me out of bed long enough to get my organic chem exams graded by Tuesday?”

He throws his head back and laughs, but she notices he doesn't even try to contradict her. The only thing she might love more than fucking her former professor in his office, is spending a long weekend in his bed. 

Yes, it's good to be the teacher's pet.


End file.
